


That Old Black Thing And That New Grey Thing

by Coatcollars



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock BBC
Genre: A very attractive little shit., Coats, Fluff, Friendship, How long until s3?, John thinks Sherlock is a little shit, Multi, Seriously mindless fluff, which he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:51:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coatcollars/pseuds/Coatcollars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock looses his coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Old Black Thing And That New Grey Thing

**Author's Note:**

> A bunch of shit happens including Sherlock loosing his coat, he buys a new one.

"Amanda Morganstern!" Sherlock shouted. "I've found her!"

  
He was sitting on the couch in an unusual up-right position with his fingers creating ruts on the keyboard and grinning like an idiot; clearly pleased with his own work.

 

"John! Wake up!" he threw a pen and it hit the back of his flatmates neck with a small thump, then landed on the floor

The other man sat up abruptly, his eyes scanning the room quickly. Finally landing on Sherlock, glaring as if attempting to burn the couch he was sitting on.

"John we have found our killer" he stated

John settled back in his chair with a complete dazed look. "Okay" he said

"We have to find her"

"Okay"

"From my analysis she should still be here, London"

"Okay."

"She studies at the university down the street-contemporary literature- but quite a vicious murder by an aspiring novelist..."  
He paused and scanned the screen of his laptop. "And by her phone GPS she's very close. John grab you coat, we're leaving."

"What? Now?"

"Yes. Don't repeat things, it makes for wasted time,

Sherlock pushed himself off the couch to his feet, which were now moving rapidly past John to his greatcoat and out the door. "Come along John! Bring the gun!"

\---

"It's freezing!" John huddled his jacket around his torso and thrust his un-gloved hands in his pockets "How the hell do you cope with this weather. Couldn't possibly have to do with your bloody coat?" 

"It is the coat."

"Yes I know."

"I know you know."

"I know you know that I know"

"Shut up."

John smiled again, his cheeks pushed up into his eyes creating little wrinkles at the edges, and he let out a small laugh which had created the air in front of him to turn thick and white from the warmth hitting cold. Sherlock thought it was nice, the smile, he had always smiled. It was easy for him, simple, He himself had his lips curl up at the edges but only slightly, he had not--

"Hey" John said, edging to his friend "Is that her? In the window, the cafe?"

Sherlock moved to the curb leaning against the bus stop, just as one rolled passed he saw the girl. She looked placidly normal- Chewing her hair from time to time, one hand on the table holding a novel her eyes were scanning, another wrapped around a warm beverage. loose grey pants and black sweater, her phone lying on her lap- "Yes that's her" he announced and ran infront of another bus, weaving through cars with John trailing behind him, calling, "Now what? We just barge in and assault her with a gun?"

They stopped at the door "No. Now we wait. I'm also fairly certain she has a weapon herself " said Sherlock with a flick of his hands as he smoothed down his collar "We're going in. Do not make eye contact, natural stances, John."

He opened the door and a rush of warm air hit their faces along with a lovely atmosphere. It was nice, a small cafe with overstuffed couches and people talking quietly. Old wooden stools and tables were strategically scattered around and a victorian-looking farplace stood royally in a far corner, crackling as the fire pratically lit the room.

  
They hung their coats on the antique rack by the door, scanning the place and registering where the girl in question was.

  
"So this is it. A cafe?" John stated. But Sherlock was at the counter, ordering,  and soon was brushing past John lightly and plopping into a plush chair, patting his thigh indicating for him to sit.

He tilted his head fractionally to the side.

Small space. Sherlock. Lap. Chair. John. Sherlock. John and Sherlock.

Fine.

He shuffled slowly and sat in the small space next to him (not his lap), his hips crushing against the side. "Now we wait?" John asked sighing  
"Yes I am aware, darling" Sherlock said audibly  
"What?" he turned his head slightly to face him  
"Your my boyfriend." his voice sounded quiet, barely sounded, now, like a whisper. It was nice.  
John almost shouted "What the hell are you going at Sherlock?"  
"Shhh!" he hissed "Just for the case, you idiot."

He looked at him with bewilderment, and shifted to glare at Sherlock's pale eyes which narrowed with small amounts of warning.

"Fine" He crossed his arms and Sherlock wrapped one long one around his torso.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Shhh."

Fine.

They waited in silence on the chair, John had nested in Sherlock's lap.

"This is strange." he said finally  
"Hmm?"  
"The lap sitting."

  
The detective held the cup away from his lips, "It's for the case John, this is no place for two people like us; But as a couple the atmosphere suits us, we blend in." he pointed at the couple by the fire, giggling with each other, sipping their drinks then kissing. (Oh god)  They were surrounded actually, by young couples enjoying their time together, talking, cuddling, etc.  
John winced at the thought of Sherlock, and the fact that the thought made something in his stomach fly around.

  
Sherlock continued, "It will be over once Ms. Morganstern moves out, we will make our move then. For now, Dear John, look as if you are enjoying yourself."

It was fine it was all fine.

"Alright. But you owe me."

"Dishes? No body parts? What will it be?"

He leaned his head back to Sherlock's collar bone, feeling warmth seep through his jumper.   
But he held his hand out never the less, up to the other mans nose.  
"Fifty pounds will be sufficient, I think" he grinned.  
Sherlock sighed and reached his hand to his trouser pockets, pulling out a note, slapping it on John's palm.  
"Thank you" he chimed, tucking it into his pocket.

Minutes passed, Sherlock reclined his head back to the arm rest, slipping his eyes closed, and John was ridged as Sherlock moved his surprisingly warm hands on his chest.  
  
"What is she doing now?" Sherlock asked. He seemed perfectly content, damn him.

John craned his neck up to level, "She's just reading, still. I don't think she'll be going soon, should we make a move now?"

Sherlock made an irritated noise and moved his hand in small circles around the fabric. "Not in here" he said quietly. "Too many people."

 

 

"She's staring" John said

"Let her" 

 

"John move over."

"Where?"

"Put your leg there"

Okay

"And your hand here"

Okay

"And your head here."

Okay

 

"Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Don't be an idiot. Couple things. Anything."

"Um. Okay. Fine" he took a breath and made a pleasurable noise, nuzzling himself in his new, (temporary) boyfriends neck.

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I dont know what people do. I should think you should know after your many women friends, possibly that is the reason why you are never able to sustain--Get up."

Amanda Morganstern was gathering her things and John was grabbing his coat.

\---

"Scotland Yard!" he shouted as he flashed Lestrade's badge in her face.  
She was on the ground against a gratified wall, out of breath. Sherlock had a long, gruesome cut down his cheek and John was still doubled over from the punch he had received back in the street. The girl had put up quite a fight, she had nearly run eight blocks before they eventually caught up. the two had manage to put her into restraints as she finally ran into a dead end with nowhere to go

He threw his phone to John who wearily caught it.

"Dial Lestrade." he said, pointing the gun to her.

\---

Sherlock had spoken to the girl as her head had been lowered into the police car, nodding curtly and replying in a foreign language, herself speaking very quickly and congratulating him for the win. It has ended with a simple exchange of looks as the car drove away.

"Sherlock!"

He whirled around from the shout of his name, finding a man with graying hair rushing towards him and John.  
"You two found one of the FBI's most wanted. Americans looking for a German" he laughed nervously and shook his head, "She's been under radar for months, studying."

Sherlock scoffed

"You two don't have to file any reports, up to us to settle the foreign affiliations, just--

"LESTRADE!"  
"I'M COMING"

"Thanks Sherlock.  John." he added, spinning on his heel and jogging away.

Sherlock sighed and slumped his shoulders, "Home, then?" he said.

"Yeah sounds good" he bundled his jacket around his shoulders and scanned Sherlock's body which seemed strangely different.

"What?"

"Nothing I just-"

"Oh." he shifted on his feet, "That was a disguise John, nothing more, I thought it would be a sufficient-"

John laughed "Hell, Sherlock, I know, but its not that it's-- never mind." he furrowed his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb behind him "Yeah home."

\-----

"It's insane how awful your sense of direction is." John said rubbing his hands together for warmth, practically shaking by the door of 221B

"It wasn't my fault that you--" he made a noise "Shut up" and reached to his coat pocket for his keys.

His eyes widened "John."

"Hmm?"

"My coat."

John took a step back to the railing "Oh my God." he laughed "Oh my God!"

Sherlock banged his head on the door, frowning, "My coat" he murmured, he had left it in the cafe, before he had sprinted after the girl.

John put a hand on his shoulder, "Hey Sherlock, we'll look for it in the morning, okay?" he said still chuckling.

"John. My coat" he whined.

"Yeah Yeah," he opened the door with his own keys, " It's almost one am, so I would appreciate some sleep, you can detach from that thing for a night." he ushered him in.

Sherlock sulked and muttered curses along with silent exclamations  
"My coat." he said again, once at the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock for Christ sake. Do you need it now?"

No reply, just a sad stare.

"Fine." John sighed "Find out when the cafe opens."

Sherlock growled and the shorter man pushed him aside, walked into the flat and landing on his chair. Soon the taller man stumbled in, whining like a child and throwing his face into the couch cushions, ignorant to the world around him.

\-----

Sherlock stayed up, John had fallen asleep in the chair, his arms crossed, eyes closed (fluttering at times) and lips slightly parted creating steady breathing. He acknowledged this, that he would sleep about three more hours minimum, and from the light casting across the room it was aprox. six in the morning. A proper time to set out on the hunt for his coat, minding the time it would take for transport, Sherlock set out of the door almost reaching for something that wasn't there.

\-----

He had taken John's keys, (his own being in his missing coat) and had flagged down a cab to the cafe he had been to previously.

Sherlock reached his destination, feeling vulnerable and odd standing without billowing material engrossing him. The man reached a steady hand to the cafe door and walked in, turning immediately to the rack.

One blue cashmere scarf, a single hat, a jacket, and a windbreaker. No black wool coat with defined collars hanging limp on the protruding iron rod.

He walked up to the man at the register, he asked him about a coat and contents, he shook his head gently and suggested he look in the back. Sherlock nodded as he turned away, minutes later he returned with (by Sherlock's judgement) three, maybe four items. No coat.

The cashier cleared his throat and Sherlock ceased the drumming of his fingers against the counter  
"Erm, what did the contents look like? Can you describe them because I can't just give then to you, you know?" 

Sherlock answered, " Apple phone with pink case and a set of keys." he stared. "That's it."

The cashier shrugged, "Yeah, and a match box but-" he spilled the contents on the counter and scratched the back of his neck, "Sorry about your coat mate, someone must've ridded of the insides before taking it."

\---

Sherlock opened the door to the flat, no sign of John (moved to his own bedroom then)

He walked into the kitchen, grabbed....some food item, and shoved it in his mouth as he put his flatmates stolen keys strategically in its origin.

\---

John lumbered slowly down the stairs finding Sherlock asleep on the couch, in an in-humanly possible tight ball, facing the inside if the couch.

He walked passed him hitting his shoulder for him to get up and received a groan in response. John continued to the kitchen and rubbed his face with one hand, turning on the faucet with the other letting water run into the coffee maker.

"You find your coat?" he asked groggily.

Sherlock was up tossing him his phone and slamming his shoulder clumsily into John as he walked past, "Tell Lestrade we have a case, not to bother us." he muttered

John looked at him in awe. "A case." They just finished one last night, The paused for a second,"For your coat? Oh my God, Sherlock, You can't do that." he said setting the phone down.

"Why not?" he snapped

"Because it's a coat!"

"It's _my_ coat" he argued

John returned to the coffee that was now perking and Sherlock set the mugs out.

"Yeah a bloody coat" John replied pouring the coffee and milk, spooning sugar in Sherlock's mug.

"People report idiotic things all the time, this is important." Sherlock said, grabbing his cup and shuffling over to his chair.

"Can't you just put up flyers or something?" he sat opposite, "Like a normal person?"

"I could John. But they left my wallet and phone so they want to smite me" he drawled "So this is obviously a crime committed."

"Or they could've just liked the coat and felt bad if they took everything." he offered

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and sat back, "With or without. Your choice."

"Oh my- Sherlock? You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Christ." he threw his hands up.  
"Fine, Fine. I'll stay home for this one."

Sherlock turned his nose up and his chin to the window "Fine" he said

\---

The quest for the coat prevailed later that day, Sherlock leaving John behind to scour the city. He was cold. His flat mate had refused to lend him any jumpers or jackets, stating: '"I'm not involved. You said it yourself Sherlock"' and retreating to his bedroom with a door slamming behind him.

It was very cold.

He had traced a five kilometer radius if the coffee shop, and running towards any blur of black he could spot. All failed with business men shaking from his grip and women shooing there black-coated children away from him.

\---

4:48 PM

No texts from John or any sign of his black wool greatcoat.

\---

Perhaps he could buy a coat, temporary until he found his

\---

Sherlock had wound up with a coat. It was unlike his wool, smooth and a dark shade of gray with posh silver buttons and no cuffs. It fit him well he thought, tight around his waist with a buckle around the back, and two straps hanging at his sides; length setting above his knees. The coat had one breast pocket opposed from his usual none, and two deep front pockets. He had received glances and head turns, the coat drawing attention, sticking out moderately as it complimented his body and set out his strange eyes and ebony curls even more.  
Sherlock didn't notice, only trekked back to the flat, calling it a day.

\---

He found John at Speedy's sitting out side, bundled up with a scarf, a beige jumper with chords and his military jacket, sipping coffee and looking out for a man triumphantly wearing a black coat.

Instead he got a sulking Sherlock with an un-normal looking coat.

\---

He looked more open. And insanely gorgeous. His hair retorted the colour of the material, looking lighter (a browner black) as well as his eyes which looked a greenish-blue flecked with gold where the sun hit, lighting up small stars. John liked this. A lot in fact

"What?" Sherlock said abruptly as a way of greeting, sitting across and taking Johns mug.

"I- Nothing" he realized he was staring and furrowed his eyebrows, "What the /hell/ are you wearing?"

"Oh," he tugged at the neck cuff (no collar) "I just got it. It was cold and since you wouldn't let me wear your clothing I decided it would be necessary to find a temporary coat. Until I find my own, of course." he drank from the cup.

The lack of collar made his pale neck look even longer, and bare.

"I would have let you if I knew you would have-- How expensive was that?"

"I don't know, 300 quid?" he said airily

Johns mouth gaped open "Your mental" he said "Absolutely Impossible."

Sherlock shrugged and John grabbed the mug back.

"Whatever," John said "I'm going back up soon so don't bother trying to make me run around looking for that thing."

\---

"Sherlock!" exclaimed Mrs. Hudson opening the door for them,"You've gotten yourself a new coat, you look dashing, so handsome. Doesn't he John?"

Sherlock turned to look down at him, expectantly, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks "Yeah, great" he said sheepishly.

Mrs Hudson gave them pats on the shoulder and shooed them out of the foyer to the stairs "Have fun you two." she said with a wink and bustled back to her quarters.

John shook his head once they were in the flat and Sherlock turned to him, and stepped away.  
"So really-" he said "-how does it look? Feels strange" he twirled around looking at the back of it; it curved to his body, flipping up at the ends, and John could have sworn he could imagine him wearing a flower crown surrounded by faeries.

He scratched the back if his neck smiling and pushed the thought away "It's good. Nice." he threw his keys to the table, that didn't seem to catch them, "A bit different I suppose?"

"Hmm" Sherlock said fiddling with the ropes at his side.

"What?"

"Just, do you like it John?"

"It's fine. Nice"

"You already said that."

"Well what do you want me to say?"

He stared at him blankly and John carried on: "No collar? You can't do the thing now."

"What thing?"

"The flippy thing." he did the hand movements "You know- When you pull your collar up to look all cool with your cheekbones"

"I don't do that!" he said defensively

"You did" John said pointing at him as he fell to his chair.

Sherlock growled and took it off, placing it on the rack.

\---

The Personal Blog of Doctor  
John H. Watson:

The Lost Coat, Day Three  
...

 

Sherlock walked passed, dressing gown and a squirming rat in hand;  
" 'The Lost Coat' ?!"

"Yeah you made the blog" John said fighting a smile, "Look at all the comments" he scrolled at least three pages.

Sherlock pointed his head away and muttered several (very creative) curses, "Did you at least put out an add?" he asked finally.

\---

It was weird. The whole 'New Coat' John thought, Sherlock seemed more open, it affected his personality as well as his appearance. He actually was less irritable with the Yarders at crime scenes. It wasn't necessarily good or bad, but to be perfectly honest John missed that old great coat; the one that wrapped its self around Sherlock's lanky frame when a gust of wind appeared, that sometimes emitted heat when John and Sherlock would bump shoulders on the sidewalk, that would make Sherlock.... Sherlock.  
He didn't like the attention it got him, people noticed him (more that usual) and John couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy when men and women would walk by him twice just to get a better look.

This coat was thin, barely ruffled in a breeze. Showed off his body figure a bit to much, curved at his arse. Made him look irritably attractive to the point John just wanted to jump on him (not like his other attire didn't make him want to either) but he was just. To say one word: Conflicted.

\---

"Hey Sherlock?" He said one day from the kitchen.

He had just gotten back, hundreds of tiny, melting snowflake crowned his head and shoulders. "Yes?" he said shaking them off briskly.

He looked back down to the plates he was drying, "Do you um-- still want me to help you find the coat?"

Sherlock strode over, still en grey coat.

"You don't like it do you?" he said seriously.

"No no," he consoled, bumping against the counter. "It's nice. It's just that I liked the other one better."

"Oh," the taller man said, "But I should tell you John"

"What?"

"I found it weeks ago, it was at the cafe, hanging on the hook. They said someone dropped it off along with a 500 pound note, I don't know why anyone would want to--"

"What?"

"What?"

"Your incredible. Don't even-- Give me that," he said pointing at the coat and grabbing for the sleeve, suddenly feeling anger.

"No!" Sherlock shouted, backing away hastily.

"Give it to me."

"What do you want with my coat?"

John lunged for him but Sherlock jumped out of the way and ran behind the couch.

"I like this coat" he hissed

"I swear to God Sherlock."

He ran around the flat for about the tenth time, huffing for breath, laughing at their immaturity. Him trying to kick Sherlock in the arse and finally grabbing the tassel of his coat and pulling him down to the ground, tumbling hard.

John pinned him down by his wrists and his head fell to the other mans chest, giggling and breathing hard, "You utter Bastard"

Sherlock laughed and his head fell back to the floor in retirement "I don't get it" he said "Do you hate this coat or like it?"

John let go and sat up on top of Sherlock, his knees on either side of his stomach. He pulled it away from his shoulders and Sherlock slipped his arms out. "I don't know," John sighed yanking it from under his back and looking at it hang limply from his fingers. "It fits you so nicely, and you look great in it." Sherlock was prostate under him, breathing slowly now, "But It's just not you." John said throwing it aside and placing his hands over Sherlock's chest.

"Then what's me?" Sherlock asked sliding his hand up John's arm

"That bloody black wool thing"

They laughed.

"Sorry" John said, pushing himself off, "I didn't mean to pin you-"

"No," he said "stay."

John smiled.

"The black thing then" Sherlock whispered, placed his hands on Johns hips, "You like it?"

"Yeah, I do"

"And the grey one?" Sherlock asked quietly, smiling

He hovered himself centimeters away from him, "Just a little" he said, and pressed his lips on Sherlock's mouth.

 


End file.
